


Travelling on the Slow Path: Vienna

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Sanctuary Verse [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and the Doctor are invited to a Vitex event in Vienna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Doctor stared at the expensive invitation card. Rose had given him the cream-coloured envelope when she returned from work, pulling it out of her bag along with some papers which she set on the desk in the study. He was seated at the desk, sketching a first draft of schematics for his new sonic screwdriver, and he didn't immediately notice the envelope.

“What's this?” he asked, looking up.

“Dunno, something Lisa gave me on the way out,” Rose said, leaving the room to change, into jeans and one of his shirts, no doubt. Lisa was her father's personal assistant; he should have known that expensive invitation cards from Pete meant business. Vitex business at that, and the Doctor hated Vitex business. He had opened the card uncertain what to expect.

“Why Vienna?” he muttered, still staring at the elegantly printed invitation, as if he could will the letters to rearrange themselves and spell an entirely different name instead. Like Aneni V. They had fabulous ice cream there. Or Nanevi. Their speciality were logical puzzles. He hadn't been there in ages, probably wasn't likely to ever go there again, considering.

“Vienna?” Rose asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. She joined him at the desk, taking the card from him. She was indeed wearing one of his shirts, a habit she had taken up soon after their return to London.

“Why Vienna, though?” he asked, looking up at her.

“What's wrong with Vienna?” Rose said, putting the card down. As soon as the question was out she realised. “Oh.”

He took her hand. “I'll be fine.” It was true, too. He would be fine. He had a feeling he needed to do this, go back to the places he had run to on the search – for whatever it was – together with Rose, to put those demons to rest.

Rose drew him towards her, stooping to drop a kiss onto his tousled hair. “Are you sure? I could go alone. Term will have started by then, won't it?”

The Doctor wrapped his arms around her midriff. “Nah. I'll be fine. Actually, I never got a chance to try all the kinds of coffee they have. There's only so much coffee you can have in a day, you know, without going up the walls. It took me two days to try them. Two days, imagine that. And I didn't even go to Demel's.”

“What about school?” Rose asked.

“Only starts a week later,” he replied. Another thought occurred to him. “Do you want me to come at all?”

“Course I do! It's just... I thought maybe it is a bit soon. And the way you looked at the card, I didn't want to...”

“Open up old wounds?” he asked, pulling her down to sit on his lap. He slid a hand beneath her shirt. “Maybe. Probably. It'll be good to go there.” She deserved to know what had been going on all those weeks ago, but he wasn't sure what had happened himself. He so wanted to tell her, wanted her to see and understand. It was the least he could do for her. “Besides, I'd love to travel again.”

“You feelin' restless?”

“Not particularly, no,” he said.

“Liar.” Rose cupped his face in her hands and gazed intently at him. “Promise me to tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours, Doctor.”

“I promise.”

“Well?” she asked, her tone lighter.

“Well, what?”

“Are you feelin' restless?”

“A bit.”

Rose kissed him, and he drew her closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

 

-:-

 

The compartment Vitex had booked for them on the train from London to Vienna was roomier than any he had ever seen. Lisa had made sure that they wouldn't want for comfort on the long journey, and had booked the first class compartment as soon as Rose had confirmed that they would attend the Vienna event. Instead of cramped bunk beds, like those from their return from Florence, there was a proper bed, one that took up about a third of the compartment. There was a tiny en suite – they'd have to sit on the toilet to brush their teeth – separating the sleeping area from the small salon where they could sit quite comfortably, and even have their meals.

“Trains are quite a bit more posh here than where we're from,” he said, standing in the sliding door. All he had was his satchel and a holdall that held the essentials for their trip. The rest of their luggage had been collected earlier that morning to be shipped to Vienna in a separate car.

“It's the train or the Zeppelin, and believe me, trains are much more comfortable. And faster,” Rose said, her hand in the small of his back. When he had first taken the trip from Paris to Munich, he'd soon felt cramped, unable to arrange his limbs in a way that actually allowed him to close his eyes for more than half an hour at a time.

“If you have the money,” he mused, stepping inside the compartment.

Rose nodded, blushing, sliding the door shut behind her. It was quite obvious that she still was not quite at ease with her role as the rich girl she had become practically overnight. She was a poor rich girl, really, having lost everything and yet fallen up the social ladder. His heart constricted. He remembered, quite well, of course, his own pain at being separated from her, and he had also imagined what life would be like for her in Pete's World.

Having put down his satchel and the overnight bag, he enfolded her in his arms, dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head. “I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking.”

“There's nothing to apologise for, Doctor. You're absolutely right,” she mused, rubbing his back. “Sometimes I scare myself. I feel like such a spoiled brat, because I don't have to worry about these things. You get used to things so quickly.”

“Now, that's rubbish, Rose, and you know it,” the Doctor said, tipping her chin up with a gentle finger. “See it as... the universe's way of making it up to you.”

Rose shook her head. “'s unfair. No amount of money could make up for what... happened. For being separated from you.”

He smiled at her. “It was comforting to know, though,” he insisted. He'd been sure that she'd be able to build a new life for herself, a good life, even without Pete Tyler's help. No matter how much the Doctor suspected it, it hadn't been a given that Pete would've accepted Rose as his own, or even that he would've married Jackie.

“Yeah,” Rose said, and he let the matter drop. The train started with a gentle jerk; Rose held tighter to him, letting out a short squeal, and he let the matter drop.

They had tea in the dining car, and it was only when they were already in France that Rose realised they'd passed through the Eurotunnel. When she breathed a sigh of relief and sipped at her wine, the Doctor reached out to cover her hand with his.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“There was an accident two years ago. It was horrible, and it always gives me the shivers when I pass through the tunnel,” Rose explained.

They retired to their compartment soon after and watched first the landscape and then the outskirts of Paris and then the cityscape flit by. “If I didn't know how beautiful Paris is, I'd never want to stay here,” Rose mused.

The buildings lining the railway tracks were mostly dilapidated warehouses or blocks of flats in bad repair, the once white façades blackened by smoke and exhaust fumes.

“It's funny how most places are the same in that regard,” the Doctor replied. “I wasn't paying much attention to things like that when I... ran.”

Rose held his gaze evenly, but he could sense she wanted to ask him something. She hesitated and the moment was gone. He was relieved; he wanted to tell her about those days, but the moment was not quite right yet. Rose shifted away from him so she could rest her head on his thigh and look up at him. He dropped one hand onto her stomach and threaded the fingers of his other hand through her hair.

“I still can't believe we're here, together, like this,” he blurted.

“'s wonderful,” Rose said, reaching up to touch his cheek with the backs of her fingers. He captured and kissed them.

The Doctor slipped on his glasses and picked up his book as Rose watched darkness fall outside. Slowly the landscape was replaced by the reflection of the compartment and the Doctor as the window was turned into a dark mirror. Only the half-moon or the occasional light were bright enough to invade their world. From Rose's vantage point in the Doctor's lap, it sometimes seemed as if the world had come to a standstill.

She remembered the last time she'd taken this route, and the journey before that, in search of the Doctor. How lonely and desperate she'd felt back then. Now that they were travelling together, again, as they should be, those days seemed so distant and unreal. Sometimes she thought she ought to feel deliriously happy about their reunion. She was happy and grateful, but in a calm yet powerful way.

When she looked at him, she noticed he had stopped reading and was gazing at her. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said gently, smoothing her hair back.

“I was just thinking how happy I am. Travelling with you,” she said. She didn't add how inconsolable she'd been during the lonely weeks without him, following him across the continent.

“On the slow path,” he added.

Rose was briefly reminded of the other times he'd thought they were stuck on the slow path. With another woman. With her.

“What's going on in that beautiful head?” he asked, smoothing the creases on her forehead with his thumb.

“Doesn't matter,” she replied. She didn't want to bring up Krop Tor or Reinette right now. Memories of Reinette still hurt. Rose knew she could never have stood a chance against the powerful, beautiful, brilliant courtesan. What hurt even more was the certainty that Reinette, once she had tired of the Doctor, would have broken his hearts.

Thankfully, the Doctor let the matter drop, and they were silent for a while. “When I travelled with Martha, we had to hide on Earth for a couple of months. I was human then. I couldn't remember the real me.”

“Do you miss being a Time Lord?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to learn the answer.

“I... no,” he replied, chuckling at his own surprise. “No. I can finally have that one adventure I thought I'd never have. I got a glimpse of the life I could have had as the man I had become. John Smith, a school teacher back in 1913.”

“And?”

He took a deep breath. “And I didn't think I'd be able to give up my life as a Time Lord, when I had the choice. I saw my death, and I was scared. The idea of just ceasing to be... it scared me.”

“But even Time Lords die eventually, don't they?” Rose asked.

“Yes, after a very long life in several bodies.”

“How did you become human, though?” she asked, intrigued by the idea, but also because she didn't want to think about losing him, of a life without him.

“A Chameleon Arch. It rewrites your biology. I needed to hide for a couple of months, and so I became human and found this boarding school. Martha got a job there as a maid.”

“You've come full circle,” Rose said, sitting up.

“Not quite. You see, John Smith had no idea who he really was. The Time Lord was hidden inside a fob watch. Can you imagine that? My essence, my entire being enclosed in a tiny little timepiece?” He held out his empty palm, and Rose could imagine the watch resting in it. She took his hand after a moment and pressed a kiss onto the mole nestled in his palm.

“Don't be scared, Doctor,” she said.

“I'm not,” he protested. “I'm not scared. Not anymore. I... I'm here with you.”

“And he's still out there,” Rose added softly, seeing that it needed saying but he couldn't, wouldn't, for fear of hurting her. She smiled when he nodded, relief evident in his eyes.

Rose leaned in for a kiss, deepening it as he drew her closer and closer until eventually she sat astride his lap. When they came up for breath, he pulled her blouse out of the waistband of her jeans and caressed her back beneath the cotton.

“Do you think that's a good idea?” Rose asked, leaning into his hands.

“Don't you?” he grinned.

“People might hear us.”

The Doctor rested his forehead against hers. “Yeah, you're right. But. I could kiss you when you come, and you could do the same for me.” He slid his hands up her back, his fingertips brushing her spine, knowing she loved that.

“Bastard.”

“Oi!” the Doctor protested.

Rose smiled at him, a sliver of pink showing between her teeth.

“Take off my glasses,” he said, dropping his voice.

“No,” she said, kissing him tenderly. “I love them.”

Instead, she leaned back. He slid his hands down her skin and they came to rest on her waist. Rose held his gaze as she began to unbutton her shirt for him. When she was halfway done, he slid his right hand under her shirt to cover the top of her breast with his hand, his fingers just tracing her collarbone. His hand slid to cup her shoulder as they kissed. He pushed the fabric off her shoulder and down her arm once she had undone the last button. He helped her out of her shirt when they had to come up for breath, and Rose laughed softly at their haste.

“Tell me to stop,” the Doctor rasped, his lips lightly touching hers as he spoke.

“Never,” Rose said, pulling his shirt and vest from the waistband of his trousers.

“Rose,” he growled. “What you're doing is dangerous. Very dangerous.”

“I know,” she replied, tugging both garments up and over his head as he raised his arms to help her. She kissed and nipped along his jaw and neck and clavicles, went as far as she possibly could without having to leave him. The Doctor's head fell back against the wall of the compartment, and his eyes fluttered shut behind his glasses. Rose's breath hitched at the sight of him; she ran her hands down his torso as she watched him.

He shuddered as her fingers reached the waistline of his trousers.

“Doctor,” she said softly, working on his belt. He raised his head to look at her. His eyes were dark, and his lips were a bit swollen from all the kissing. “Let's go to bed.”

“Would...” he began, his voice raspy, “why don't we stay here?”

Rose nodded slowly. She slid off his lap to take off her shoes and jeans. As her hands slid to the elastic of her knickers, the Doctor, who had just dropped his remaining clothes to the floor, caught her by the wrist.

“Can you leave them on?” He sounded almost shy, and he loosened his grip around her a little. “You're so beautiful.”

Rose swallowed, then nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

Just then the train jerked rather violently as it crossed points and Rose stumbled against the window. She shrieked briefly, then laughed. The moment had passed.


	2. Chapter 2

“We'd better close the blinds,” she said softly. “No point in trying to be quiet if they can see us, is there?”

“Quite. There's... the condoms are in the outer pocket of my bag,” the Doctor said.

Rose went to retrieve one of the small foil squares. When she turned back to him, he was stroking himself lazily. She stood still, watching him. Seeing him pleasure himself was something so very intimate, something they hadn't shared before. As he brushed his thumb over the glistening tip of his cock, she could take it no longer. She dropped to her knees in front of him and touched him. His cock twitched and he gasped.

“Rose,” he began, breathless, “I'm not sure I'll be able to last very long.”

Ignoring him, she gave him a swift upwards stroke. His hips bucked, and he threw back his head, moaning deeply.

“Hush, Doctor,” Rose said, her voice amused. She repeated the movement, and this time, the Doctor gritted his teeth, his pleasure not more than a low growl in his throat. When he had recovered a little and looked at her, she met his eyes. He reached out to cup her cheek, but she ducked away to take him into her mouth.

“Rose!” he squeaked. The warmth of her mouth was delicious, and she knew exactly how to make him squirm with her tongue, but it wasn't what he wanted this time. He withdrew a bit and cupped her face with both hands to make her stop.

“No, Rose,” he said. “Please.”

Rose held his gaze evenly, her eyes dark, and it was only after a minute or so that she nodded, climbing to her feet. She held out the foil packet for him, and he took it, tearing it open and rolling it on.

She moved to sit astride him once more, her knees on either side of his hips. She leaned forward to kiss him, and he groaned as he tasted himself on her tongue. Supporting her with one arm, he slid his hand around to cup her breast through the smoky blue lace of her bra. Her nipple was hard against his palm, and he bent to suckle it through the garment.

Rose made an almost sob-like sound at his caress, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

The Doctor back-pedalled then, settling to nuzzle her clavicle and neck instead. He knew she enjoyed these gentle ministrations just as much, and more quietly at that.

“Rose, touch yourself. I want to see you,” he whispered in her ear as he kissed his way up her jawline.

Rose dropped her right hand from his shoulder and slipped it beneath the elastic of her knickers, never breaking eye contact with the Doctor. She tilted her pelvis forward a bit as she touched herself, and for a brief instant, the damp lace brushed his erection. He blinked ever so briefly.

“You did this to me, Doctor. You made me so wet,” Rose bent to whisper. He supported her as she caressed herself, and she ground her hips against her hand as she slipped a finger inside herself. When her eyes closed in pleasure, he dropped his gaze to watch her busy fingers, and when Rose moaned at her own ministrations, he made her stop with a feathery touch of his fingers. He captured her hand and guided it to his lips, sucking two of her fingers into his mouth to clean them, to taste her.

They lost themselves in another deep kiss after that, and Rose pressed herself flush against his body, trapping his cock between them.

“Enough, Rose,” the Doctor gasped.

“Help me,” she whispered, rising onto her knees. She reached between them, pulling the lace aside so he could align himself with her. They held each other's gaze as she lowered herself onto him. While Rose managed to keep quiet at the sensation of him filling her, the Doctor opened his mouth in a soft moan. He pulled her flush against him to kiss her while she adjusted to him. The Doctor removed the clip which held up her hair. It cascaded down her shoulders and over his hands, delighting him as he buried his fingers in her heavy, silken locks.

“I was wrong,” Rose said, drawing lazy patterns on his chest, brushing his nipples occasionally before sucking his earlobe into her mouth. She smiled as the Doctor shivered beneath her, and his cock twitched inside her.

“About what?” he asked throatily.

“About this,” she said, and she felt him tense a bit. She leaned into him once more to whisper in his ear, “I think it's a brilliant idea.”

“Whatever made you change your mind?”

“You,” she said, “your taste. The way you feel inside me.”

He kissed her deeply in return before he buried himself deeper inside her, urging her to finally set a rhythm. She rocked against him, rising onto her knees until he almost slid out of her just to sink back down his length tantalisingly slowly. Her hands were on his shoulder and at the back of his head, in his hair. She bent to kiss him, to nibble at his jawline, to shower his face with tiny kisses.

He was trailing his fingers along the lacy edge of her bra, trying to focus on her face. It was harder than he thought, because Rose was at her most beautiful and sexy when she made love to him. Her lips were slightly parted. She panted softly, trying not to make too much noise, though occasionally a sigh or low moan would escape her, each time drawing a smile from the Doctor. The rhythm she had set was gentle on him, but he could see that it was doing something for her as well.

“Don't hold back, Rose,” he said, sliding his hand up the damp skin of her back. “I want to see you come undone. You're so beautiful when you come. Touch yourself.”

“Yes,” she said, changing the angle with a minute movement of her hips that sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Caught unawares by it, he moaned. “Is that good for you, Doctor?” Rose's lips nearly brushed the shell of his ear as she whispered to him.

“Oh yes,” he replied, breathless, but smiling. He opened his eyes again, and watched as Rose stroked her clit. She had picked up the rhythm, and as he felt her tense around him, he met her movements as well as he could.

“I've got you, Rose,” he whispered.

Rose dropped her chin to her chest, biting her lip, her eyes closed, as she concentrated on being as quiet as possible. A few moments later, she was clenching around him. For a minute he thought she'd moan loudly when she leaned into him for a deep kiss.

“You promised,” she reminded him when they separated.

“I did,” he panted.

“Now come for me. I promised you, and I want to make good on that,” she said, her breath slowly returning to normal. She flexed her muscles around him, and rocked against him. His eyes fluttered shut, and when he felt her fingers on his lips begging entry, he opened his mouth. When he sucked on her fingers, he could taste her on them. She withdrew her fingers and kissed him instead to swallow his scream. Then everything went blank around him as he came.

 

-:-

 

He was standing, naked, at the window of their hotel room, peering through the slats of the shutters. The morning light was pale and watery, and he listened to the hollow gurgling of the water in the gutter. They had opened the window wide upon their arrival the previous night. Vienna was going through a late summer heat wave, and the room had been airless despite the open windows until a thunderstorm had cleared the air outside.

The air was fresh and had long since lost the smell he loved so much, that of the first fat raindrops hitting the dusty, dry surfaces. He was a bit disappointed that it was still raining. He'd hoped they could explore the city a bit before the presentation of the new flavour of Vitex and the ensuing reception. On second thought, rain meant less people around and the relative privacy of an umbrella.

There were so many things he wanted to show Rose, to enjoy together with her. But above all he wanted to show her something he had discovered at the Kunsthistorisches Museum. It was a small piece of the jigsaw puzzle he needed to put together for an answer. He had only remembered it in the middle of the night, as he lay, sleepless, beside her in the bed on the train. It was something hidden deeply in his subconscious, and he guessed that all the emotions that resurfaced on this journey had managed to rouse this bit of memory too. After all these weeks, he wasn't even sure if he had indeed seen it here – he might as well remember it from the Kunsthistorisches Museum in their original universe.

He pushed open the shutter and stepped onto the rooftop garden of their suite. No one could see him out there, and he wanted to feel the rain on his skin. He curled his toes into the wet tiles and tilted his head back to feel the raindrops on his face.

“Doctor!?”

Rose's voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, and for a moment he was convinced it was just his memory.

“Doctor!”

Rose's voice became louder, and he turned around as the idea registered that she might actually be calling him.

“Where are you? Doctor?”

A shiver ran down his spine at the terror in Rose's voice.

“I'm here!” he cried, hurrying back inside.

Rose was standing in the doorway separating the parlour from the bedroom. She had wrapped herself in her robe. Her whole body was shaking. He was by her side in a few quick strides. Had she been dreaming?

“I'm here, Rose,” he said, drawing her into his arms and holding her, trying to soothe her. She wasn't crying, but she was shivering violently. When she had calmed down a bit, he gently guided her back to the bed. “What is it? Was it a dream?”

“You weren't there!” she blurted. “You'd left me. I couldn't find you!”

He pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. “I just went next door. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'd never leave you.” He withdrew and made her look at him with a tender touch to her cheek. “Look at me, Rose.”

She still wasn't crying.

She looked at him, and his single heart constricted at the sheer terror he could see in her light brown eyes.

“I won't ever leave you,” he repeated. “Never ever.”

“Yeah,” Rose choked.

He drew her close to him, cradling her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck. Eventually, he shifted them to lie on the bed, Rose still nestled against him, her fingers curled against his chest, leg draped over his.

They lay that way for quite a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Rose began, “It was a stupid dream.” Her voice was calm but a bit strained. “But when I woke and you weren't there, it was... it was like that Saturday, when you left me. I was so scared.”

The Doctor swallowed. He'd had no idea.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have panicked,” Rose went on.

“No,” he rasped, stroking her hair and holding her closer still. “I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry.”

Rose pushed away from him a bit so she could look at him.

“I know you won't leave me, Doctor. It's just sometimes, when I'm not... awake yet, that... You can't always be there. It's just me being silly.”

He looked at her. She was so collected and sensible. No doubt it was her training kicking in. She had never been one to easily fall apart, and once again he wondered what else he would discover about her. Sometimes, she still seemed so very different from the girl he'd met and fallen in love with literally a lifetime ago. Two lifetimes, actually.

She rested her hand above his heart. “I'm okay, really.” The expression in her eyes was enough to satisfy him that she really meant what she'd said.

“But it's not okay,” he protested.

“Why?”

“Because I've been so preoccupied with myself that I never once stopped to ask about how you feel.”

Rose laughed. She'd no doubt recognised a trace of Donna in his words, in his notions. He smiled as he realised that maybe he should listen to his inner Donna more often, despite how much the ghost of her in his mind had terrified him at the beginning. He smiled at Rose.

“I'm... here for you. You have a life to sort out, to find out who you are, Doctor. I'm all right.”

“Bu–“ That didn't mean it was okay, what the whole process did to her was okay. Who was looking after her? Who had helped her when he'd been gone? Shame washed over him. Before he could voice any of these thoughts, however, Rose was pushing him down into the mattress to claim his lips in a loving kiss.

“There will be a time, Doctor, when you'll... get the chance to make it up to me.”

He nodded, still dazed from her kiss.

“I love you, Rose Tyler.”

Rose smiled that gorgeous smile that she only ever shared with him.

“I love the scent of rain on your skin,” she said, showering his face with tiny kisses. “You taste wonderful.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, feeling his pulse speed up.

“Oh yes,” she said, grinning. Then she sat up to shrug out of her robe.


	3. Chapter 3

The presentation went as planned. The new flavour was called one of the best, something which the Doctor could not in good conscience confirm but had learned not to mention. He had made himself scarce during the press conference, despite Rose's repeated reassurances that he would not have to be present nor have to answer any questions. It wasn't so much that he didn't trust Rose – he didn't trust the media. At least the presentation and the reception were scheduled closely together in the early evening, so that they had been able to spend the day exploring the city.

After they had made love in the large bed of their hotel suite, they enjoyed a hearty breakfast. The coffee was good, but the Doctor declined a second cup so he could taste his way through the coffee lists of the countless Kaffeehäuser Vienna was so famous for. At one point, Rose started to forcefully drag him away from them. Coffee and his naturally buoyant personality were not a good combination, and after his fifth cup, Rose was giving all cafés a wide berth.

He took her to the Kunsthistorisches Museum where he showed her the portrait of a young noblewoman he had stumbled across when he'd been there alone. It was twice as old as him. He didn't linger on the reason why he had found the portrait so easily. It had been done in wax colours on a wooden panel, and it was amazingly well-preserved for its age.

“Desert sand,” the Doctor said, slipping on his glasses. “It's perfect for–“

“Doctor,” Rose whispered. He could see she had paled, even in the particular lighting of the exhibition room. His heartbeat, which had been fast already, became even faster. “She looks a bit like me, don't you think?”

“Oh,” he said lightly. “You noticed.”

Rose scoffed. “You knew. You wanted me to see her. This.” She gestured at the portrait. “When was this made again?”

“2nd century AD. Egypt. Roman Egypt,” he said, a bit too quickly. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

He watched Rose examining the portrait. She stepped closer to it, arms crossed in front of her chest. The woman in the picture had her jawline, she even shared the determination etched around her lips. The colour of her eyes was not quite right, however, and her hair was covered by a shawl. “My nose doesn't look like that. At all,” Rose said, stepping back, her arms still crossed in front of her chest.

“No,” he said.

She looked at him.

“She's wearing a necklace. I never do... well, not anymore,” she corrected herself. She had stopped wearing the TARDIS key the night the Doctor had disappeared from her flat. “And I've never travelled in time in this universe.”

They looked at each other for a while. Then the Doctor began to grin widely, chuckling.

“Does that mean...”

“I guess so. Isn't that brilliant?”

“... that I haven't travelled in time in this universe yet?”

“Oh yes!” the Doctor cried, catching the supervisor's attention. He cast them a dark look, and the Doctor grinned.

“Doctor,” she sighed, taking his hand and guiding him to a wooden bench in the centre of the room where she sat him down. “Don't you remember what happened the last time we tried to travel in time in this universe?”

He did, of course, and Rose's breakdown was still a very vivid memory. Never before in his short human life had he been so scared. “Yes, but, don't you see? It proves that I can do it, that, eventually, I'll be able to come up with something that actually works. Isn't that fantastic? Brilliant?” He'd tried to keep his voice down as he spoke and cast a glance at the supervisor. The man had turned their back on them and was looking into the adjacent room. The Doctor took Rose's hands.

Rose smiled, and he was relieved to see that it reached her eyes too. “'s... fantastic.” She cupped his cheek and kissed him lightly on the lips. He could see that there was something else she meant to say, but she had kept quiet.

He thoughtfully sipped at his water. It was nearly time for the press conference to end, so he made his way from his hiding place to the backstage area of the hotel's conference centre. The event was not taking place at their hotel. The Tylers hardly ever stayed at the same hotel that hosted the event they attended on account of all the media attention the venue in question attracted.

Soon after he had settled down in one of the modern leather sofas, the door opened and Rose entered, together with a small group of men and women who looked very pleased with themselves and were chattering away in German. Rose's eyes lit up briefly as she saw him waiting for her, but the moment was gone quickly, and the Vitex mask slipped back into place.

“Herr Doktor,” one of the women, one of the Directors of Vitex Austria, chirped as she saw him. She made a beeline for him. Her English was fluent but heavily accented. “It was great! Rose is amazing, the cameras love her. It was a shame you couldn't make it.”

He rose from his seat, setting down his tumbler on the immaculate glass-top coffee table. He affected a smile, trying to take to heart some of the advice Rose had given him regarding his public persona. “Yeah, well,” was all he managed. He'd never liked being at the centre of everyone's attention unless it was absolutely necessary, and he had a suspicion that Donna's personality was also part responsible for his awkwardness.

Rose took his arm. She looked perfect, but he couldn't wait to get his Rose back when they returned to their hotel after the reception. He'd had a lot of time to think, about the portrait from the Fayoum Oasis. It was a mummy portrait. It was buried with the dead, a tradition that had replaced death masks during the Roman rule over Egypt. At least that had been the case in his original universe. The scholar in him told him that there was little reason to believe that there was a great difference in the two universes in that regard. The lover in him hoped that it was just a portrait, and not one that adorned a sarcophagus.

It was good to feel Rose close to him, warm and vibrant where they touched.

The reception was uneventful but enjoyable. There were, after all, a few interesting people to talk to, people who were not intimidated by his set jaw and tense body language. He cultivated the image of the awkward professor, something the media had picked up on from the very beginning. While he hated being a walking cliché, he had to admit that it did have its benefits. They mostly left him alone, thinking him and what he had to say of little interest. His students got a kick out of taking apart his public persona, which amused him to no end, and he had spent a lot of time laughing about it with them in his office at the Academy.

He really should have bought the book about the Fayoum mummy portraits at the little shop at the Kunsthistorisches Museum. The tag hadn't provided enough information, and the plate detailing general information about those portraits didn't mention the provenance of each of the portraits on show.

The food was actually quite good. He declined the coffee to go with his Kaiserschmarren, which was his favourite among the many Austrian desserts.

The idea that one day, they would be able to travel again, in time and maybe even in space, made him feel as if he might burst with joy.

If, indeed, the girl in the encaustic painting was Rose.

The Fayoum Oasis, he remembered, was famous for its roses.

“Herr Doktor?”

It was the lady Vitex director. He looked at her, puzzled for a moment.

“Möchten Sie tanzen, Herr Doktor?”

“Ich habe diesen Tanz schon Rose versprochen,” he said, smiling, glad he really had promised Rose this dance. She appeared by his elbow out of nowhere. The woman smiled, as if to say she'd expected nothing different but had wanted to give it a try after all.

As they moved together to the music, he held her close and deeply inhaled the scent of her hair. He wasn't so sure anymore if showing Rose the portrait had been such a good idea, and part of him hoped that she wouldn't mention it again. For once he was glad that the accident in San Girolamo had caused Rose to lose interest in time travel. Maybe it wasn't really her in the portrait. Maybe it was just an uncanny resemblance. The Fayoum portraits, while surprisingly realistic, weren't necessarily accurate, like most portraits. The clients always asked for little alterations here or there to make them look more beautiful – with the odd exception, like the Duke of Urbino.

“You seem so distant,” Rose murmured. Her temple was resting against his jaw as they danced, and she gave his shoulder a light squeeze as she spoke.

“Sorry, lots of things to think over,” he said. “I'm supposed to be the nutty professor, remember?”

Rose pulled away from him as the music ended. “Good job you're not wearing your glasses. You wouldn't be able to fight the women off,” she said, tucking the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

He flushed, groaning. “It was certainly hard enough to fend the Raven off.”

Rose laughed. “The Raven?”

The Doctor pointed discreetly at the woman Vitex director. She reminded him very much of a raven, with her glossy, jet-black hair and beaky nose. Rose giggled, nodding. “Let's go, yeah?” she said, sliding her right hand underneath the lapel of his greyish jacket.

“Yeah,” he said, placing her hand in the crook of his arm and holding it there with his hand.

 

-:-

 

The night was warm and dry, so they settled on the chaise longue in the rooftop garden before going to bed. The chaise longue was wide enough to accommodate them both. Lying snuggled up to him, Rose played with the buttons on the Doctor's shirt. The sounds from the street below were faint, with the the ancient tram rattling along the tracks the only exception. Although the night was clear, they could only see few stars and the half-moon. The ambient light of the city, a soft orange glow, was just too bright to see all the stars out there.

“I still don't know any of the constellations,” Rose mused, looking up at the sky after she'd checked to see whether the Doctor had fallen asleep.

“Apart from the Big Dipper,” he pointed out, trailing his fingers over her bare arm. She had changed into a wide t-shirt and a pair of shorts for bed.

“Yeah,” she mused. “'s good to know it's still here.”

“Mm,” he hummed.

Rose turned her head to nestle it more closely into the crook of his neck. She undid a couple of buttons on his shirt to slide her hand beneath the linen. She could barely shake off the thought that something was bothering him, and drawing soothing circles on his chest usually helped him to relax. Had it been a mistake for him to come?

Weeks had passed since he'd come here alone. He still couldn't tell her what it was he had been looking for. She knew that he didn't know himself, and she wished for nothing more than to be able to help him find an answer. A part of it seemed to be connected with the portrait. The Doctor had seemed so overjoyed at his discovery. The idea of travelling again, the way they had, was wonderful. The Doctor had nearly burst with joy at the museum. Why was he so quiet now? Was it something she had done? Something that had happened during the presentation, or at the reception?

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“I like that,” he purred. She smiled, scraping her nails gently around his nipple. As expected, he sucked in the air sharply. She shifted against him to kiss him deeply. She'd missed kissing him during the day. It had all been about stolen moments and brief touches of lips on lips. Too little, really, to show him how much she wanted him, how much she loved him.

“Do you regret coming?”

“You tell me,” he said with a deep sigh.

“I'm glad you're here,” she said, kissing him again. “I thought you'd be happy about your discovery. Isn't it what you came here for?”

“Yes and no.” He disentangled himself from her and sat up. Rose let him go, tucking her arms beneath her head, studying his back.

“It's a mummy portrait, Rose,” he said eventually, turning so he was facing her. Rose reached out to rest one hand on his thigh. She noticed he was still wearing his suit trousers. “They were painted when the person was still alive, but they were burial objects.”

“Maybe it wasn't me in that portrait.”

He nodded in agreement. He seemed to have had the same idea, and her comment seemed to have helped him ease his mind. If it was indeed her in that portrait, that meant two things: that, eventually, they would travel in time again, and that she would die during one of their journeys. There was always the chance, of course, that her portrait was taken but never put to its intended use. Maybe there was a way of finding out more about the girl in that portrait.

She sat up, drawing him into an embrace. “I'm sure you'll find a way to travel in time again. And if not... maybe you'll come to enjoy travelling on the slow path. Like now.”

The Doctor rested his head on her shoulder. “I love travelling with you, Rose, no matter where or when.”

 

Epilogue

 

Rose went to find him in the laboratory, as usual when she 'd finished work for the day. The week so far had been calm, boring even, since there had been no alien activity whatsoever. Rose knew that could change quite quickly, and she knew she should be grateful for some quiet time.

The Doctor was busy working on the Samicrocurian device he had dragged out of the vast, labyrinthine stores beneath the undercroft of the Torchwood building. He had told her over breakfast that it was probably used to do the blood work in a medical exam without actually having to take a sample.

She went to make tea, and put down his mug on the counter at which he was working. He acknowledged her presence with an absent-minded nod, and as he did so, she noticed the dimple in his cheek and the thin line of his lips. The gizmo sat before him, taken apart, and he was tinkering with a part of it, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it. Rose also knew, however, that he needed to choose the time and place to tell her what was bothering him. She settled at his desk with the book she'd brought.

On their way home, an hour or so later, he still didn't speak. Rose wondered briefly if she was to blame for his behaviour. But when he covered her hand on the gear lever as they waited at a red light, she exhaled softly in relief.

They had barely closed the door behind them when the Doctor literally attacked her from behind, pulling her roughly into his arms. She was wearing a dress with a flowing skirt that day, enjoying the last gorgeous days of autumn, and he roughly hiked it up around her waist to cup her above her knickers. Rose cried out in surprise. His breath was short and hot against her ear.

“I need you, Rose. Now,” he growled, nipping at the spot beneath her ear. She reached behind her to touch his thigh as she pushed her bum against his hips. He was already hard.

“Yes,” she breathed, shifting in his arms to capture his lips.

He spun her around, never letting go of her. His kiss was almost punishing, and she briefly wondered what had brought on this urgency, this desperation in him to make love to her. He let go of her for a moment to unbuckle his belt and undo the fly on his jeans.

“Hurry,” he panted, his eyes glazed and dark.

Rose hesitated a moment before hiking up her skirt and pulling down her knickers. She was surprised how wet she already was. The Doctor pushed her back against one of the cinema seats so she could sit on its backrest. A condom appeared as if by magic, and before she knew it, he aligned himself with her.

She wrapped her arms around him, and then hooked a leg around his thigh as he pushed up and into her, lifting her off her feet. They cried out in unison, but the Doctor didn't allow them to adjust. He set a powerful, almost painful rhythm, digging his fingers into her flesh.

He had never been like this before, and she whispered soothing words to him, some of which he plucked from her lips, and some of which became unintelligible. He came hard and fast, with her name on his lips, before her, but took care to drive her to completion.

Rose slid off the backrest and into the seat in one fluid motion after he'd slipped out of her, still panting. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he sat on the floor across from her, hands dangling between his drawn up knees.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Rose nodded, still dazed from her powerful orgasm. “'s okay,” she added.

They sat in silence, listening to each other's breathing.

“I found out about the portrait,” the Doctor offered eventually. He looked up at her. The sadness in his eyes broke her heart.

“It's not me,” she whispered.

He shook his head, running his fingers through his messy hair.

“You sure?”

He nodded. Tears were glistening in his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Rose slid off the seat to sit between his legs. She pulled him into her arms and held him as he cried, rocking him gently and whispering comforting words.


End file.
